


Home Comforts

by Jennyrosity



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Childhood Memories, Comfort, Comfort Food, Cooking, M/M, Memories, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 23:23:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18292277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennyrosity/pseuds/Jennyrosity
Summary: Wanting to help a distraught Bucky Barnes, who he may or may not be in love with (ok - he totally is), Tony falls back on the lessons of his childhood.





	Home Comforts

“Ok...ok. It’s ok buddy. I’ll take care of you. I know what you need.”

The first time Tony had answered his door to a shaking and sobbing Bucky Barnes, it’s fair to say he was perplexed. By now, though, he was an old hand and already leading him into the kitchen, and wrapping him in a blanket left there just for this purpose. 

Settling him into his usual chair, he fell into their by now regular “comforting Bucky post-rough-BARF-session” routine. Tea first. “Tea is important” he heard Jarvis - original Jarvis - say in his ear as he boiled the water. “It must be boiling water” the memory of Jarvis continued. “Americans will have you believe that merely hot water is sufficient. They are wrong.”

Just before the kettle began to sing, he used some of the water to warm the pot, swilling it around to coat the insides (“An important step, don’t be tempted to skip it”) before adding three tea bags (“one per person, Master Anthony, and one for the pot”) and the boiling water. 

Leaving the pot to steep - “for exactly three minutes, no more or less” - he set out the sturdy mugs (“for company, of course, one would use the finest china, but there’s something that can’t be beaten about wrapping your hands around a hot mug of tea”) and warmed them too (“Strictly speaking one needn’t warm the mugs if one has warmed the pot - which of course you will have done - but England is a cold and damp place, so we take no chances”) before getting the milk and sugar. 

“A gentleman would normally take his tea with a splash of milk only - but should a gentleman have had something of a shock - or a, shall we say, an unpleasant moment - then plenty of milk and at least two sugars are the closest an Englishman may get to the comfort he truly needs.”

Tea poured, milk and sugar added (“afterwards, Master Anthony. Only savages add the milk first”), Tony pressed the mug into Bucky’s hands and was gratified to see the first glimmer of a breakthrough in his friend’s misery as he inhaled the scent. 

“There you go, buddy. Drink that, and I’ll get dinner started.”

A different voice takes over as he drinks his own tea and gathers the ingredients for what had become their usual post-session meal - his mama. “Come Antonio. Every Carbonell must know how to make our namesake dish.”

More boiling water, with lots of salt, for the pasta - “it must be as as salty as the Mediterranean herself” - which simmered away as he warmed olive oil (“this one for cooking, Antonio. The extra virgin is for salads or for eating with bread”) with whole garlic gloves (“the smaller you crush it the stronger the flavor. Carbonara just needs a gentle hint, so we leave it whole, just to infuse the oil”.) 

The chopped pancetta went into the oil to sizzle and turn a gentle golden brown as Tony whipped eggs and Parmesan together (“no cream Antonio. Cream is an abominable American addition” - and Tony has to chuckle to himself at how both his mother and his father-figure despised so many Americanisms, despite living there, marrying into or working for American families, and raising an American son - “an extra egg yolk adds enough richness.”

The cooked pasta goes into the pan with the pancetta and garlicky oil, the garlic itself having been first removed, and briskly tossed. Turning off the heat, the eggs and cheese are added and swiftly stirred through (“quickly now, we want the eggs to gently coat each strand, not to scramble”) along with a spoonful or two of the pasta water (“see how it loosens the sauce, Antonio, turns it silky and smooth?”) and finished with several grinds of black pepper and a sprinkling of extra Parmesan (“everything is better with cheese”) before being heaped into the broad, shallow bowls Tony kept just for this purpose. 

As he carried their meal over to his guest, he was relieved to see that, having finished his tea, Bucky looked calmer and less likely to fall apart. He did not speak, however, until half the plate of steaming, delicious pasta had been eaten - at which point he raised those beautiful blue eyes to Tony, and put down his fork long enough to take his hand and say: “Thank you Tony. I don’t know why you keep doing this for me, every time, but I’m so glad you do.”

Tony blamed his blush on the heat of the kitchen, and thanked the voices of his past for teaching him how to comfort somebody you love.

**Author's Note:**

> Earlier today, I was teaching my daughter to make spaghetti carbonara (it's her favourite, I thought she should learn to make it herself), and this story popped into my head. It could possibly be seen as a continuation of Some Like It Hot, if you've read that one.


End file.
